THE CHIEF AMERICAN POETS |
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... FALL 459 HILL BATTLE 389 THE SINGING LEAVES 459 HOW THE OLD HORSE WON THE BET 392 WITHOUT AND WITHIN 461 FOR WHITTIER'S SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY 394 AUF WIEDERSEHEN 461 VERITAS 396 PALINODE . 462 THE SILENT MELODY 396 THE WIND - HARP 462 THE ...
... FALL 459 HILL BATTLE 389 THE SINGING LEAVES 459 HOW THE OLD HORSE WON THE BET 392 WITHOUT AND WITHIN 461 FOR WHITTIER'S SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY 394 AUF WIEDERSEHEN 461 VERITAS 396 PALINODE . 462 THE SILENT MELODY 396 THE WIND - HARP 462 THE ...
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... Falls , mid the golden brightness of the morn , Is gathered in with brimming pails , and oft , Wielded by sturdy ... fall their volleyed stores , rounded like hail And white like snow , and the loud North again Shall buffet the vexed ...
... Falls , mid the golden brightness of the morn , Is gathered in with brimming pails , and oft , Wielded by sturdy ... fall their volleyed stores , rounded like hail And white like snow , and the loud North again Shall buffet the vexed ...
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... Fall outward ; terribly thou springest forth , As springs the flame above a burning pile , And shoutest to the nations , who return Thy shoutings , while the pale oppressor flies . 31 Thy birthright was not given by human hands : Thou ...
... Fall outward ; terribly thou springest forth , As springs the flame above a burning pile , And shoutest to the nations , who return Thy shoutings , while the pale oppressor flies . 31 Thy birthright was not given by human hands : Thou ...
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... fall in death . Beautiful over my pathway The forest spoils are shed ; They are spotting the grassy hillocks With purple and gold and red . Beautiful is the death - sleep Of those who bravely fight In their country's holy quarrel , And ...
... fall in death . Beautiful over my pathway The forest spoils are shed ; They are spotting the grassy hillocks With purple and gold and red . Beautiful is the death - sleep Of those who bravely fight In their country's holy quarrel , And ...
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... fall . 1 Bryant wrote this poem for the day when Lin- coln's body was carried in funeral procession through the streets of New York city . Thy task is done ; the bond are free : We bear thee to an honored grave , Whose proudest monument ...
... fall . 1 Bryant wrote this poem for the day when Lin- coln's body was carried in funeral procession through the streets of New York city . Thy task is done ; the bond are free : We bear thee to an honored grave , Whose proudest monument ...
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Common terms and phrases
Acadian beauty bells beneath bird breath cloud dark dead dear death dream earth edition Emerson Evangeline eyes face fair feet flowers forest gleam golden grave hand hath hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha hills JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL John Greenleaf Whittier Kenabeek land laugh leaves Leaves of Grass light lips living Longfellow look Lowell maiden meadows Mondamin moon morning mountain never night Nokomis o'er Osseo pass Pau-Puk-Keewis poem poet river rose round sail sang seemed shadow shining shore Sidney Lanier silent sing Sir Launfal sleep smile snow song sorrow soul sound Specimen Days stars stood stream strong summer sweet thee thet thine things thou thought trees verse village voice Walt Whitman wampum wandering waves Whitman Whittier wigwam wild William Cullen Bryant wind woods words young youth
Popular passages
Page 145 - Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore. Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with th.ee.
Page 346 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Page 42 - Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore: Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never— nevermore.
Page 392 - Is true Freedom but to break Fetters for our own dear sake, And, with leathern hearts, forget That we owe mankind a debt ? No ! true freedom is to share All the chains our brothers wear, And, with heart and hand, to be Earnest to make others free ! They are slaves who fear to speak For the fallen and the weak ; They are slaves who will not choose Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, Rather than in silence shrink From the truth they needs must think : They are slaves who dare not be In the right with two...
Page 551 - O how shall I warble myself for the dead one there I loved ? And how shall I deck my song for the large sweet soul that has gone? And what shall my perfume be for the grave of him I love?
Page 346 - This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main, — The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; Wrecked is the ship of pearl ! And every chambered cell, Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, Before thee lies revealed, —...
Page 41 - But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door: — Darkness there and nothing more.
Page 41 - I heard you' — here I opened wide the door; — Darkness there and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, 'Lenore?
Page 55 - BY the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood And fired the shot heard round the world. The foe long since in silence slept ; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps ; And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. On this green bank, by this soft stream, We set to-day a votive stone ; That memory may their deed redeem, When, like our sires, our sons are gone. Spirit, that made those heroes dare To...
Page 282 - I was rich in flowers and trees, Humming-birds and honey-bees; For my sport the squirrel played, Plied the snouted mole his spade; For my taste the blackberry cone Purpled over hedge and stone ; Laughed the brook for my delight Through the day and through the night...